


To Keep Calendars in the Absence of Time

by r_grayjoy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: merry_smutmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-23
Updated: 2010-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:32:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy/pseuds/r_grayjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus finds that there can be many reasons to keep track of the days, even in a place where time has no meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Keep Calendars in the Absence of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for merry_smutmas 2007.

**To Keep Calendars in the Absence of Time**

**I**

Many times over the years, Severus had thought about his own death. He had envisioned all manners of demise for himself, some more gruesome than others, depending upon the bleakness of his mood. Similarly, the afterlife of his imagination had taken an array of forms. Never once had he considered that it might resemble Spinner's End.

Yet there he was, standing before a perfect replica of his broken down childhood home. One minute he was looking up into Lily's green eyes -- _no, Potter's_ \-- and struggling for breath, and the next he was in the middle of the cobbled street on which he had grown up. It was painfully familiar, broken street lamps, boarded up windows, weathered paint and all. There was, however, no distinctive scent in the air to suggest the polluted river nearby, and the entire street with its brick row houses was surrounded by a dense wood that had certainly never existed in Severus' lifetime.

There was no question about it, then. This was not the "real" Spinner's End, and Severus was most decidedly deceased. The latter was not terribly surprising, all in all. Although he might have hoped for a better end than messy death via the Dark Lord's pet snake, Severus had never truly expected to survive the war. He was also somehow not surprised that no one had shown up to welcome him to the afterlife. In fact, he had seen no evidence of another person yet at all. The street was still, and no sound disturbed the scene save the chirping of birds and the occasional _crick_ of insects.

Beginning to feel ridiculous standing out on the worn cobblestones and waiting for something to happen, Severus moved towards the last house on the row out of old habit. Turning the knob, he found the front door unlocked. With a push, the door swung inward, scraping the floor near the end of its arc as it had begun to do in recent years. Severus reached into his robes and was relieved to discover that he still had his wand. He didn't know whether magic worked here or whether he could even be harmed, but the length of wood in his grip was reassuring nonetheless. Wand in hand, Severus stepped through the door.

Weak beams of sunlight filtered in through the grimy kitchen windows, barely illuminating the two downstairs rooms. The gloom didn't quite hide the layers of dust that coated every surface and the pervasive signs of neglect. A quick survey of the house revealed that everything was precisely as Severus had last left it, to the best of his recollection. It was as though he had returned to the dismal place at the end of the school year to pass the summer in seclusion. Only the view of lush trees out every window provided evidence to the contrary.

Uncertain what it was he was meant to do, assuming he was meant to do anything at all, Severus settled in to await some change or sign. He spent the better part of the day idly waving his wand about in order to test the effects of magic in this place and was both disappointed and relieved to find that it appeared to work just as it always had. Afternoon bled into evening in an entirely normal manner as well, and Severus was vaguely surprised to find himself growing hungry. Did the dead truly need to eat? Apparently they did, since, upon inspection, Severus discovered that his kitchen was fully provisioned.

After dinner, Severus alternately browsed his book shelves and gazed out the front window at not-Spinner's End. When it grew dark, he read by the light of several candles, the Muggle light bulbs having burned out long ago. Eventually he began to nod off over his book, and, not having anything better to do, he climbed the narrow staircase and went to bed.

On the second day, when nothing noteworthy had transpired by mid-afternoon, Severus decided to explore his immediate surroundings a bit more. Leaving his house, he slowly circled the row of buildings lining the street, pausing occasionally to peer into windows or prod at crumbling woodwork. Everything was as he remembered it except that the narrow homes, boarded up and otherwise, were entirely devoid of occupants.

Turning his attention to the woods surrounding the displaced scene, Severus headed for the tree line and wove in and out of the foliage, mentally cataloguing an array of potential potions ingredients as he went. Not that he intended to spend eternity hanging about a copy of his dismal family home, of course, but it was always good to remember where useful flora and fauna could be found. The woods were pleasant enough, at any rate; not menacing and sinister as the Forbidden Forest could often seem, but sunlit and bustling. Severus appreciated the irony when his mind supplied the descriptive phrase "full of life".

Eventually returning to his house to prepare dinner, Severus spent his second evening as a dead man much as he had the first. In truth, he found himself rather enjoying the peace and quiet, the strange and unexpected nature of it all notwithstanding. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps the universe at large was finally allowing him a bit of a well-earned reprieve.

On the morning of the third day, Severus concluded that no visitor or signal was forthcoming, so he packed a lunch and set out to investigate his situation more thoroughly. He planned to enter the woods and walk in one direction until he either found whatever was on the other side or was forced to turn back in order to return to his house before dark. If he discovered nothing of interest in that direction, he'd simply choose another bearing the next day. After all, there appeared to be plenty of time to solve the puzzle in a methodical and leisurely fashion.

Severus began walking east. At least, he chose to think of it as "east", since it was the direction in which the sun had risen the last two mornings. He quickly found that the forest was quite dense in some patches, full of branches and thorny plants that liked to slap at his face and tangle in his robes when he let his guard down. Severus had never precisely been fond of the outdoors, preferring his dog-eared books and fresh parchments to tall trees and skinned knees even in his youth. Still, the placidity of the place and the knowledge that, for once, his mission was not one of life and death put him at ease, and he pressed steadily on.

Roughly two hours passed without sign of anything more aberrant than a wild hare in a bush. Spotting what appeared to be a clearing up ahead, Severus decided he would pause to eat. As he pushed through the last of the brush into what he had believed to be a clearing, however, he stopped dead in his tracks, jaw going slack in disbelief. There before him was the replica of Spinner's End, but he had approached it from the west side.

He must have become turned around in the woods and gone in a great circle. He hadn't been paying close enough attention to his bearings. It was the only logical explanation. The notion of lunch forgotten, Severus hastened to the last house on the street to make certain that it was, indeed, the same building. Everything inside was as he had left it that morning; the tea pot on the old Muggle stove, his book by the chair. This was the same house, then, and not another facsimile. Severus told himself that he had merely been distracted by his thoughts and lost his sense of direction, yet it did little to abate his unease.

Exiting the house, Severus resolved to make another attempt. This time he walked north, making frequent use of a directional spell and determinedly keeping his mind on the task at hand. Thus, when he burst out of the tree line to a view of the south side of Spinner's End two hours later, he knew with absolute certainty that he hadn't veered off course.

Severus tried again, entering the forest from the southwest, and again, entering from the northwest, a sense of desperation expanding in his chest with each trip. It was dusk when he pushed through the tree line to a view of Spinner's End for the fourth time and fell to his knees, robes torn and hair damp and stringy with sweat. Severus didn't make dinner or read by candlelight that night, but eventually fell into a fitful sleep on the lumpy sofa.

On the fourth day, Severus made a calendar. Since he was clearly stuck in this place for the time being, he might as well keep track of the date and maintain some sort of schedule, he reasoned. The fact that he was dead was no excuse to become idle and undisciplined, and besides, he'd want to know how much time had passed when he eventually found a way out. So he made a calendar, beginning on the day of his arrival, and carefully marked off the first four boxes. After hanging his work on his kitchen wall, he made lunch, then set about mending the tears in his robes from the day before.

The next three weeks Severus spent buried in texts, searching for any obscure reference that might help him find a way out of his present predicament. Every avenue of pursuit seemed to lead him on a pointless chase, and he soon felt as though he were running in futile circles, much as he had done in the woods. Realizing that he would drive himself to obsession and insanity if he continued at his current pace, he reluctantly laid his books and notes aside. He would allow the problem to simmer in the back of his mind but turn the bulk of his attention to other activities for the time being.

On the twenty-sixth day, Severus began using magic to dig out and fortify a basement suitable for use as a potions and spell research lab. It was slow going, particularly since he had never done anything of the sort before, and he had to learn the appropriate spells and wards as he went. Still, he was in no great rush, and in the end he was able to create a more than passable work space. Several more days were spent transfiguring loose cobble stones into ladles and flasks and vials, and collecting a variety of ingredients. By the time Severus was ready to begin brewing, he had meticulously marked two months off his calendar.

Severus pragmatically chose to view his present circumstances as his opportunity to conduct the research and experimentation for which he'd had precious little time in life. As far as potions went, he was limited somewhat by the resources available to him, but he took this as another challenge and began working to formulate new and better uses for common ingredients. He quickly fell into a flexible routine, taking pleasure in his newfound ability to set his own schedule and work only on what he wished, as little or as much as he wished, each day. For the first time since he was an adolescent, he was beholden to no master, a slave to no one else's demands. Yet he was keenly aware that he was just as much a prisoner as he ever had been.

As the weeks passed, Severus came to realize that, although there were days and nights in his private corner of the afterlife, there were no seasons. The air remained warm, and the woods stayed continuously in the full bustle and bloom of spring. Some days Severus spent long hours in the forest surrounding his home, taking pleasure in the tranquil setting, the rich colors and subtle sounds. At other times he was intensely aware of the forest as a looming, confining presence, a prison with tree branches in place of bars, a dungeon more effective than any oubliette. During these periods, he avoided the woods entirely, shutting himself up in his small house and closing the curtains so that he could see no hint of green.

No other human being had yet entered Severus' self-contained world. Severus frequently reminded himself that he enjoyed the peace and solitude, that it was what he had always wanted. There was no one in the afterlife he would truly wish to see anyway, with the possible exception of Albus. He pointedly tried not to think of Lily, who most likely didn't care to see him and whose debt he had at last repaid with his own life. No, he had no need for other people and their insipid smiles and tiresome conversation. Severus did wonder about the outcome of the war, but it was no longer his concern or his battle to fight, and that, admittedly, was a relief.

On the one-hundred forty-third day, Severus made a breakthrough with his potions experimentation, having discovered a previously-unknown property of common fluxweed, making the plant potentially useful in much more potent draughts. Smirking in satisfaction, he lowered the flame on his cauldron and wiped his hands on a nearby cloth before strutting out of his lab. He made it as far as his kitchen before he stopped suddenly, the pleased expression falling from his face.

Abruptly Severus realized that he had no way to publicize his work, no way to tell anyone what he had achieved. No matter what he accomplished here, it could gain him no measure of notoriety or respect. His work would continue to go unlauded, and Severus would be forced to swallow the bitter pill of disappointment as he had so many times in life.

Severus didn't bother getting out of bed at all the following day. Then, on day one-hundred fifty-six, he rose early and returned to working with the fluxweed. With its level of potency, he might be able to substitute it for certain other, less common ingredients in a variety of potions.

On the one hundred ninety-eighth day, when Severus went to mark his calendar, his hands began to shake. Dropping his quill, he grabbed the calendar in both fists and tore it from the wall. With a feral shout, he hurled the offending thing across the room. It sailed through the air, pages flapping, then hit the far wall and fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. Severus had his wand out before the calendar even hit the ground, and with a well-aimed _Incendio_ , the sad bundle of parchment went up in a flash of flame and smoke.

After breakfast the next morning, Severus made a new calendar. It was identical to the one previous and began on precisely the same day. Severus marked off one-hundred ninety-nine days before hanging it on the kitchen wall and returning to his lab.

The solitude and confinement wore more heavily on Severus from that point onward. He lay in bed some nights, unable to sleep, listening to the sounds surrounding him. As the crickets and frogs and other nocturnal creatures went about their business, Severus wondered if they were real or if they were tiny golems manufactured solely for his benefit. The endless buzzes and clicks and croaks took on a sinister tone and were too loud to allow Severus any rest.

In the evenings, Severus worked his way through the sizeable number of books on his overfull shelves that he'd not found time to read before he died. He still took pleasure in reading, perhaps now more than ever, since it served as something of an escape from his situation. Aware that no new volumes would be forthcoming, he consciously tried to go slowly and savor the printed words.

On the two-hundred fifty-first day, Severus realized that there was only one unread book remaining. Reluctantly, he put it back on the shelf, wishing to save it for as long as possible. The tome seemed to call to him from its resting place until, on day two-hundred seventy-three, Severus retrieved it and began reading. When he completed it three days later, She couldn't rationally explain why he felt as though he had just lost someone important to him.

It was about then that the dreams began. They were neither remarkably good nor exceptionally bad, and no common theme ran through them. Regardless of plot or setting, they were all so incredibly vivid that, upon waking, it took Severus several confused moments to sort out what was real from what was not. Although the dreams often left him disoriented and morose, he refused to resort to Dreamless Sleep. The night-time illusions were the only contact with other people and places he had, and they at least felt real while they were taking place.

Severus was careful not to dwell too much in dreams, however. He forced himself to maintain a relatively stable routine, fearful that if he allowed himself to fall into an irregular schedule, he'd lose track of the days. If he lost track of the days, his sanity might not be far behind. He was rapidly losing hope of ever finding a way out of his prison and wished desperately for anyone, anything to break the monotony or give him the slightest sign that something still existed beyond his tiny domain.

On the three-hundred sixteenth day, Remus Lupin arrived.

**II**

It was approaching noon when Severus stumbled blearily downstairs to mark his calendar and put the kettle on for tea. He hadn't slept well the night before. In truth, he hadn't slept well in several days, but he'd learned that staying in bed wouldn't gain him any additional rest. While waiting for the water to boil, he shuffled a few paces into his sitting room and turned his gaze to the front window. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the sight that greeted him.

For months the only variation in the view out Severus' windows involved the appearance of random insects and birds, or perhaps the odd rabbit or squirrel. Now ambling up the road toward Severus' house in all its shabby, greying glory was one decidedly familiar werewolf. Severus blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked again. The vision remained. Severus was fairly certain that he'd just gone completely round the twist, but if this was insanity, at that moment he decided he'd welcome it with open arms.

Throwing his front door open wide, Severus rushed out of his house. He traveled a few unsteady paces to the street, then stopped short, uncertain as to what he should do. Lupin's head swiveled slowly towards the source of the disturbance. "Severus?" Lupin asked, brow knitting together in confusion. "Where are we?"

Severus' pulse hammered in his throat and he struggled to compose himself, to recall how to behave normally. "I'd rather hoped you might be able to shed some light on that matter," he replied, privately startled at the sound of his own voice, rough from months of disuse.

Appearing dazed, Lupin glanced around the replica of Spinner's End then shook his head. "No, I've never seen this place before in my life."

Aware of the irony in Lupin's words, Severus snorted in uneasy amusement. "I should certainly hope not."

Lupin seemed to gather his wits and realize with whom he was speaking then. "Sev-- _Snape!_ You traitorous, murdering bastard!" he exclaimed, drawing his wand and training it on Severus.

The maneuver was executed slowly enough that Severus could have immobilized Lupin if he'd wished. Instead, he merely folded his arms and looked disparagingly at the wand-wielding werewolf. "Put that down," he demanded. "You can't kill me; I'm already dead."

A confused expression passed over Lupin's features again before he said, "You deserve to die for what you've done!"

Although he was careful to show no outward sign that he was affected by Lupin's outburst, the accusation stung. Even in death he was to receive no acknowledgment for all he'd done and sacrificed, it seemed. Suppressing a sigh, Severus asked, "Lupin, what's the last thing you remember?"

"What..?" Lupin's hand wavered.

"Humor me."

"I was… the battle… fighting a Death Eater, I think it was Dolohov… Curses flying everywhere, it was utter chaos. A bolt of green… I wasn't fast enough to dodge it…" Lupin's disjointed narrative trailed off and Lupin blinked. "So I'm dead?"

"So it would seem," Severus said.

"And this is the afterlife?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"My, aren't you just full of answers," Lupin remarked dryly. It was a statement, not a question.

Severus answered anyway. "Yes."

With a bark of bitter laughter, Lupin said, "It's nice to see that some things never change."

Oh, but things did change. Never had Severus expected there to come a day when he would be pleased to see Remus Lupin. He couldn't begin to imagine why Lupin, of all people, was here. It could be worse, he supposed. At least it wasn't Potter or Black. Still, in that moment Severus lost all hope of the universe ultimately making sense.

Rather than putting voice to these thoughts, Severus merely shot a pointed look at the wand Lupin was still leveling at his chest. Lupin looked down at it as well, then dropped his arm with a weary sigh. "Fine, I suppose it's not my concern anymore. Just point me to the road out of here, and I'll be on my way."

Would the forest open up for Lupin? Severus' chest constricted at the thought of being left alone again so soon. "Not so fast," he said. "I have questions."

Lupin merely looked at Severus, his expression one of dubious curiosity. Severus quickly collected his thoughts and asked, "From your rambling and inarticulate account, I am to take it that you died in a battle against Death Eaters?"

"So it would seem," Lupin replied, echoing Severus' own earlier words and smiling wryly.

"When and where did this battle take place?"

"Hogwarts," Lupin began. "We received word that Harry was inside the school and Voldemort was coming for him. That… you had fled and the resistance was preparing to fight. The attack came at midnight. I led a group onto the grounds and ended up dueling Dolohov. Funny, I hadn't realized you were dead…"

"That's not possible!" Snape said.

"What? Why not?"

"I was killed during the battle at Hogwarts. That would mean we died on the same night. Likely within minutes of each other." Severus balled his hands into fists to stop the trembling that had started in his fingers.

"Don't tell me you're going to get competitive about which one of us died first," Lupin said.

Preoccupied with the implications of Lupin's news, Severus was no longer listening. It wasn't possible. Severus had been in his self-contained afterlife for more than ten months. For three-hundred sixteen days, to be precise. He'd kept a calendar, for Merlin's sake. Yet Lupin claimed to have just come from the battle. It wasn't possible.

"You look like hell," Remus observed, interrupting Severus' circular thoughts.

Severus sniffed. "I _was_ eaten by a snake, you know." The statement was, of course, an exaggeration, and an incongruous one at that. His present appearance had nothing whatsoever to do with the manner of his death. Rather, his recent lack of sleep had left him even more pale than usual and with dark circles under his eyes. Nevertheless, his remark seemed to distract Lupin adequately.

"Really? A snake?" Lupin asked, appearing vaguely intrigued and amused. "Wait, not _Voldemort's_ snake?"

"One and the same," Severus said darkly.

"Voldemort killed you? At the battle?" Lupin asked, his eyes widening as he seemed to put the pieces together in his head. "But why would… Oh god. You were on our side all the time, weren't you?"

"You always were rather slow on the uptake, Lupin," Severus said by way of confirmation.

"Oh. Oh Merlin," Lupin breathed. "That means… Oh, Severus."

Although he was thankful that Lupin had discerned the truth without his having to spell it out explicitly, Severus was uncomfortable with Lupin's obvious horror and pity. Scowling, he said, "For the love of god, man, it hardly matters now. Come inside, have some tea, and let's attempt to rationally examine what's going on here. If that's not asking too much of your weak and addled mind in one day, that is."

At the mention of tea, Severus recalled the kettle he'd left on the stove. Turning on his heel, he swept back towards his house but shot a look over his shoulder before entering to be sure that Lupin was following. Lupin was, indeed, following, and Severus just had time to rescue his kettle and begin the process of making tea over again before Lupin entered the kitchen behind him. "Tea in the afterlife," Lupin remarked. "This must be the Englishman's heaven."

To the contrary, Severus had come to think of this place as his own private hell some time ago. Thus he refrained from commenting and focused on making the tea instead. Realizing that he'd not yet had breakfast, he quickly added toast with jam as well. All the while he was acutely aware of Lupin's presence, and fought against his inclination to stare at the other man, to go over and poke him to be certain he was solid.

"So it's still necessary to eat?" Lupin asked, looking curiously at the tea tray as Severus levitated it to the small dining table. "Or is it more of a hobby?"

"I don't know that it's strictly _necessary_ " Severus said, "but I do feel hungry if I don't eat." He'd occasionally gone two and three days at a time without eating at all when he simply couldn't bring himself to care. At other times he'd eaten purely out of boredom even though the food in his stores had long since lost its appeal. As soon as Severus had become aware of his situation, he'd begun duplicating his supplies and placing Preserving Charms on the perishable items. Shortage was not a concern, but lack of variety was the curse of this place.

"Huh," Lupin said, pulling Severus out of his thoughts. As he brought his tea cup to his lips, Severus quirked an eyebrow in inquiry. Lupin shrugged. "It's just not quite what I would have expected, I suppose," he said wryly.

"You don't know the half of it," Severus said, more to himself than to Lupin.

Severus watched closely as Lupin glanced about the room, his eyes at last falling on the calendar. A peculiar look passed over Lupin's features. "Severus, I thought you said we died on the same day."

"I did," Severus replied, setting his cup down. As much as he didn't wish to examine the matter and its implications too closely, he knew it couldn't be avoided for long.

"But you've been keeping a calendar… How long have you been here?"

Severus managed to deliver the answer in a dispassionate tone. "Just over ten months."

Lupin opened his mouth to speak, but it took him some moments to form the words. "How is that possible?"

"Obviously, time doesn't work the way we're accustomed to here," Severus said irritably, as though it should be readily apparent.

Shaking his head, Lupin seemed to take a moment to absorb this news. "What have you done with yourself here for ten months, then?" he asked.

"Read. Brewed potions. I've finally found the time to pursue some of my own spell development and potions research," Severus said. "Granted, I'm somewhat limited by the supplies that are readily available to me here and have had to take that into account when planning my projects. However, I've made several significant breakthroughs already. I've discovered a previously unrealized property of common fluxweed that allows it to be substituted, with some modifications, as an ingredient in much more potent elixirs. Most recently I've been working on applying certain principles of Arithmancy to…"

Severus realized that he was, for all intents and purposes, babbling. To Remus Lupin, no less. Apparently he was determined to make up for ten months of silence in the span of a single afternoon. Looking down at his toast, he affected a condescending tone and said, "But I'm sure you must find such subjects most tedious and would rather be spared the detail."

"No, it's not tedious at all," Lupin insisted. "Though I must say," he continued, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a mischievous smile, "somehow I'm not surprised that you've chosen to keep yourself shut up in such an isolated place."

"It wasn't my choice," Severus said flatly.

"How's that?"

"It is impossible to leave." Severus couldn't be certain that it was entirely the truth, however. For all he knew, the woods would allow Lupin to pass, but keep Severus trapped forever.

"Why not?" Lupin asked, frowning. "What's beyond the forest?"

"There is no 'beyond the forest'," replied Severus.

Stubbornly, Lupin insisted, "That doesn't make any sense."

Severus rose from the table abruptly. "Come. I'll show you."

Lupin appeared puzzled, but he stood and followed Severus out of the house and to the edge of the woods without protest. Although he was intimately familiar with much of the forest by now, Severus instructed Lupin to use a directional spell to prevent them from veering off course, then led the way into the trees.

After the first few minutes, Lupin began to ask where they were going, but Severus only replied with, "You'll see," or, "Patience, Lupin," and Lupin eventually fell silent. Meanwhile, Severus grew increasingly anxious with each step. Fearful that the woods would release the other man but not him, he remained close to Lupin, periodically grabbing at his sleeve if he threatened to get out of arm's reach. If Lupin found the behavior peculiar, he didn't comment.

The woods did not open up for Lupin, but behaved exactly as they had for the past ten months. When both men emerged to the rear view of Spinner's End, Lupin stared at the desolate buildings agape. "There is no 'beyond the forest'," Severus repeated, and Lupin merely nodded, dumbstruck.

Afterward, they returned to Severus' house and spent the rest of the day in conversation, although safe topics between them were uncomfortably few. When Lupin at last suggested that it was time for him to go, Severus rolled his eyes. "Go where?" he asked. "Do you intend to sleep in the street like a vagrant? The other houses have all been unoccupied for a minimum of ten months. It will take a good deal of time and effort to make any of them fit for habitation."

"I'm sure I'll manage, Severus. I always do," Lupin said mildly.

"Don't be an idiot, Lupin. I have a second bedroom that's not in use. You might as well stay there tonight. You can make other arrangements tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Lupin asked dubiously. "I don't want to be a nuisance." Severus shot him a withering look, and the discussion was brought to an end.

Some time later, Severus led Lupin to the smaller of the two upstairs rooms and, bidding Lupin good night, retired to his own room across the narrow hall. Severus slept soundly, without dreams, for the first time in weeks.

* * * * *

The following morning, Lupin began searching for a more suitable place to stay than in Severus' spare bedroom. Of course Severus had been right; the other houses were in wretched condition. Granted, it seemed that Lupin had plenty of time on his hands to remedy that situation, but it meant that he would have to depend upon Severus' hospitality until he could make one of the homes livable. Lupin looked apologetic, and Severus attempted to appear vaguely put out. Inwardly, Severus was pleased and relieved beyond measure.

After deliberation, Lupin chose the house connecting to Severus', since it was among the most structurally sound. As Lupin began the arduous process of cleaning, repairing, and reinforcing the place, Severus returned to work on his latest spell research, encouraged by the notion that there might now be someone with whom he could share his results. At least, Severus did his best to focus on his work, but he was frequently overwhelmed by the compulsion to simply check on Lupin, to see him and to make certain he was still there. His excuses for interrupting Lupin were thinly veiled at best, but if Lupin saw through them, he played along and never called Severus on his duplicity.

The pair took meals together throughout the day, and in the evenings they talked or sat downstairs and read. After months of solitude, Severus very much wanted to spend time around another person, but he didn't entirely know how to go about it. He'd never cared about social niceties in life, and he now worried that Lupin would be put off if he was too brusque or blunt or awkward. Fortunately, Lupin's easy going manner made things easier for him, the unflappable demeanor that had always infuriated Severus in the past now serving to set him at ease. There were still times when Severus was keenly reminded of his history with Lupin and his anger flared, but his need for companionship quickly overruled his ire.

On the twelfth morning after Lupin's arrival, Lupin was clearly agitated and preoccupied. When he repeatedly failed to respond to some question from Severus and his eyes kept traveling to the calendar on the wall, Severus demanded, "For Merlin's sake, what is the problem, Lupin?"

Lupin sighed and looked at Severus woefully. "There's a moon here, you know."

"I had realized that, yes," Severus replied dryly.

"It will be full in a week, give or take," Lupin said.

Uncertain whether Lupin was implying what he thought he might be, Severus slowly said, "Lupin… I don't know if it's possible to brew wolfsbane here. Some of the necessary ingredients, I don't have at my disposal. It's possible that I could find substitutes, alter the formula, but that would take time…"

Lupin cut him off. "Do you think I'm a werewolf here, Severus?"

Severus blinked. He hadn't even considered that Lupin's lycanthropy might be cured in death. Lupin had simply always _been_ a werewolf in Severus' mind, ever since the incident in fifth year. "I couldn't begin to guess," he said.

As the full moon approached, Lupin grew increasingly restless, not quite succeeding in hiding his anxiety behind a placid façade. On the morning before the full moon, a current of tension ran beneath the discussion as Severus and Lupin quickly made plans. It was agreed that Lupin would go into the forest before moon rise, and Severus would ward his doors and windows so strongly that nothing short of a full-blooded giant would be able to get through them.

That night, the three-hundred thirty-fourth since his arrival, Severus lay awake in the dark, his pulse racing at the slightest sound. The werewolf was something of a personal bogeyman for him, and the thought of the mindless, slavering beast outside the walls of his house made him nervous, for all that he had confidence in his own wards. Yet it was something more that kept Severus on edge. This was the first night since Lupin's arrival that they had not gone to bed directly across the hall from each other. This was the first time that he didn't know Lupin's precise location and couldn't go check on him if he wished. Would the forest allow Lupin to leave if Severus was not there? Would Lupin simply disappear tonight, never to return?

Severus watched through the cracks in the curtains as the moon rose and began its passage across the night sky. He strained to hear a howl, a growl, a scuffling of lupine feet, but none came. Then, roughly two hours after moonrise, Severus was nearly startled out of his skin by a violent pounding from below.

Wrapping a dressing gown tightly about himself and grabbing his wand, Severus hastened downstairs. The pounding, he realized, was coming from his front door. Crossing the sitting room in three strides, he pulled the window coverings back and saw… Lupin. Not the wolf, but Lupin, appearing quite thoroughly human.

Upon seeing Severus, Lupin threw his head back and laughed. "Severus!" he shouted, loudly enough for Severus to hear through the glass pane of the window. "Look at me! I'm human! The moon's been up for at least two hours. I'm not a werewolf!"

After only a moment's hesitation, Severus brought down his wards and opened the door. As soon as he did, Lupin reached out and grasped his shoulders. "I'm human!" Lupin repeated, grinning so broadly Severus thought his cheeks might be in danger of splitting apart. "I'm not a werewolf!"

Before Severus could formulate any sort of reply, Lupin laughed again, then lunged forward, catching Severus up in a fierce hug. Startled, Severus could do nothing but stand frozen until Lupin released him. "Congratulations," he mumbled inanely. Lupin laughed a final time, then jogged away and disappeared into the trees.

When Severus descended the stairs the next morning, he found Lupin already sitting at the dining table with a cup of tea in his hands. Lupin smiled brightly despite looking unkempt and exhausted. " 'Morning, Severus," he greeted pleasantly. "Tea's hot."

Never having been much for mornings and being rather exhausted himself, Severus grunted a response before taking a seat and reaching for the tea pot. "I apologize for my, er, exuberance last night," Lupin said.

"Your excitement was understandable, under the circumstances," Severus replied somewhat formally. He felt vaguely embarrassed and couldn't quite put his finger on the cause. When Lupin said nothing more, Severus ventured, "You were out late." In fact, he knew that Lupin hadn't returned to the house until just before dawn. "What on earth were you doing?"

"Just… walking. Running. Looking at the moon. I was too excited to sit still, let alone sleep. I apologize for keeping you awake," Lupin said.

"You didn't," Severus lied.

Lupin stared at his cup in a way that made Severus doubt he was actually seeing it. "It's strange. For so long, I was defined by my lycanthropy. I spent so much of my life trying to convince people that I wasn't a horrible monster."

"You weren't," Severus said. When Lupin's eyebrows appeared to be in danger of disappearing into his hair line, Severus snorted disparagingly. "I was acquainted with many monsters in my life, Lupin. You were not one of them." It was the truth, although Severus hadn't fully admitted it until recently. "My problem with you was your inability to stand up to your friends, your willingness to go along with the crowd, and your refusal to take responsibility for your actions."

A strange look crossed Lupin's features, and for a moment Severus thought he'd gone too far. Instead of reacting with anger, however, Lupin merely said, "Yes, I think that was my problem with me, too."

* * * * *

After the full moon, Severus and Lupin resumed their established routine, although Lupin now spent more time in the woods doing Severus knew not what. Initially, Severus was uneasy when his only companion began disappearing beyond the tree line, and he had difficulty focusing on his own pursuits until Lupin resurfaced. When it soon became apparent that Lupin was just as trapped as Severus and was therefore not likely to vanish without a trace, Severus' irrational fear subsided and his thoughts turned to other matters.

Other matters, such as the night of the full moon when Lupin had latched onto Severus like some sort of overgrown parasite. It hadn't meant anything, of course. Lupin had been excited, and Severus had simply been within range. Although he chided himself for being unduly affected by what was nothing more than a casual, offhand gesture, Severus couldn't prevent himself from both hoping and fearing that something like it might happen again.

Severus had been quite content to live the better part of his life with only minimal physical contact with other people, but now he found himself seeking it out. He enthusiastically related even the smallest advancements in his research to Lupin in hopes that he might be rewarded with a literal pat on the back, or walked near enough in passing that Lupin's hand might brush his arm. He particularly relished the rare occasions when Lupin would place his hand on Severus' shoulder to gain his attention, and he began pretending not to notice when Lupin entered the room at his back.

On the three-hundred fifty-fifth morning, Lupin came into the kitchen and headed for the tea pot without so much as brushing against Severus in passing. Severus told himself he was not disappointed and grunted a vague greeting without looking up from his parchment. "'Morning," Lupin said around a yawn. Taking a seat across from Severus, he asked, "What has you so absorbed?"

"I believe I might have thought of a new means of getting us out of here." Severus had not wholly despaired of leaving not-Spinner's End. If there was a way in, there had to be a way out, he stubbornly reasoned.

Lupin frowned. "You've not given up the idea of applying properties of fours to enhance simple charms work, have you? I'm a bit rusty, but I really am quite competent in Arithmancy and spell theory. I was thinking that perhaps I could work with you on that project, if you've no strong objection to a research partner… ?" he suggested tentatively.

Severus was surprised by Lupin's proposal, but he was also well aware of the blatant redirection of the subject. Laying his parchment aside, he fixed his gaze on Lupin. "As intriguing as that offer is, I can't help but notice that you're remarkably unconcerned about the fact that you're effectively trapped in an afterlife the size of a shrivelfig with only a collection of woodland creatures and an old adversary for company."

"I'm practiced at making the best of things, I suppose," Lupin said, shrugging. "I haven't had as much time to grow tired of it as you have, and besides, I actually _like_ hanging about with that old adversary. Who would have thought?" Lupin flashed Severus a revoltingly charming smile.

Not about to be deterred by flattery, Severus rolled his eyes. "Aren't there other people you wish to see eventually? Your delinquent friends, perhaps? Or your _wife_?" he asked pointedly.

The smile fell instantly from Lupin's face and his tone went cold. "That topic is not open for discussion," he said.

Intrigued by the unexpected change in Lupin's demeanor, Severus couldn't resist pushing. "Granted, if I'd been married to that walking disaster, I'd be rather pleased with the peace and quiet of this place as well. Really, Lupin, I'm familiar with the phrase 'war makes strange bedfellows', but you weren't required to take it so literally."

Lupin slammed his fist on the table hard enough to make the tea set jump off the worn surface. In all the years of their association, Severus had never seen Lupin react with anything stronger than vague disapproval, and it required considerable will to hide his surprise. "Has it ever occurred to you that there might be some things that you _don't_ know everything about, Snape?" Lupin snarled. "One would think a _spy_ would have a better sense of when to keep his mouth shut."

Severus' lips twitched up into a thin, humorless smile. "The truth hurts, does it, Lupin?"

A tense moment passed, then the anger slowly drained from Lupin's eyes and his head dropped forward into his hands. When he looked up again, he said, "Look, I just don't want you blaming yourself for not being able to get us out of here. I trust that you're doing everything in your power to solve our problem."

"Why the devil would I blame myself?" Severus asked, somewhat taken aback.

"Well, you were here first. It's _your_ afterlife," Lupin said, a shadow of his usual mischievous grin returning to his features. With that, he drained his cup of tea and rose from the table. As he watched Lupin's retreating form, Severus was left wondering what had just happened.

There was once a time when Severus would have been thrilled to discover a means of infuriating Lupin and would have taken full advantage. Now, however, he wished to remain more or less in Lupin's good graces, so he carefully avoided any further mention of Tonks. By way of apology, he reluctantly accepted Lupin's offer to assist in his research. Actually, his exact words were, "Well? I thought you wanted to help with the Arithmancy project. Are you coming or not?" but he trusted Lupin to grasp the sentiment behind them.

While he hadn't entered into the arrangement with any great hopes of finding it productive, Severus was soon forced to admit that Lupin truly hadn't been overestimating his abilities. In fact, his understanding of spell theory rivaled Snape's own, and Snape found himself quite enjoying working with a competent partner. He was only half joking when he told Lupin, "Once we get out of this abysmal afterlife, my name still goes ahead of yours when we publish." Of course, the time Lupin had available for renovating the connecting house was much reduced, but Severus didn't remark upon it.

**III**

A sudden, unexpected sound pulled Severus out of a fitful sleep. Instantly alert, he lay still and listened for it to come again. A few heartbeats later, it did; a sharp _tik_ of something small hitting the glass pane of his window.

As he turned his head towards the source of the noise, Severus' gaze was drawn to the pale light seeping in around the edges of the curtains. It was the full moon again -- the third since Lupin's arrival. Although he was no longer a werewolf, Lupin still chose to spend the full moons tromping about the forest for the better part of the night. Severus wasn't certain why. Perhaps Lupin was concerned that he might yet transform, or perhaps the moon still affected him in some way, or maybe he simply enjoyed looking at the glowing orb in the sky all night and knowing that it would never hold sway over him again. The last Severus thought he might be able to understand.

 _Tik!_ The sound came once more, and Severus rose to investigate. He threw the curtains aside just as another pebble bounced off the windowpane. Cursing under his breath, Severus raised the window and looked down. There on the ground stood Lupin, clutching what Severus assumed was a handful of tiny stones.

"Lupin! Have you taken leave of your senses?" Severus demanded.

Apparently, Lupin took the question to be rhetorical. Instead of answering it, he laughed and shouted, "Severus! Come down!"

"What? Why?"

It was too dark to be sure, but Severus could have sworn Lupin rolled his eyes. "Come on, Severus! Get dressed and come down!" With that, Lupin jogged around the side of the house and out of sight, leaving Severus to decide whether to do as Lupin bade or ignore the lunatic and go back to bed.

Three minutes later, Severus walked out his front door, fully dressed. It wasn't as though he'd been sleeping well anyway, he thought resignedly. Lupin was waiting for him, and before Severus could grumble anything disparaging in his general direction, Lupin reached out and grasped Severus' hand. "Come with me," Lupin said and began pulling Severus toward the trees.

Severus abruptly found himself being led on a weaving, twisting course through the darkened forest at nearly a run. Seemingly deaf to Severus' orders to slow down, Lupin kept a tight grip on Severus' hand and plunged ahead with only the moon to light his way. Severus reached for his wand with the intention of at least casting _Lumos_ , but Lupin stopped him, saying, "Don't. There's enough magic here." Perplexed, Severus allowed Lupin to guide him, silently hoping they wouldn't break anything important.

At last Lupin came to a halt. Severus attempted to catch his breath, and watched as Lupin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "When I was the wolf," Lupin said, "I loved the forest. It was one of the only things that could calm me. I don't remember much from my transformations, but I remember that." Lupin's voice was strange, low and intense. It held Severus' full attention and made any words of his own catch in his throat.

Lupin turned to Severus and met his gaze. A thin beam of moonlight filtered through the trees and fell across Lupin's face, making his eyes glint in the darkness. "I still feel a connection, especially during the full moon. Every forest is alive, Severus. Even this one. Each one has its own unique pulse, an ebb and flow of energy… Here!" he said suddenly, stepping closer to Severus. "Listen. Can you hear it? Feel it?"

Somehow, Severus had forgotten that Lupin was holding onto his hand until Lupin raised it, palm up. Pushing back the sleeve of Severus' robes, Lupin began gently tapping out a pattern on the pulse point of his exposed wrist. His voice dropped to a whisper as he went on, "Beat. Beat. Beat. The rhythm of the forest. There's music in it, if you know how to hear. Close your eyes."

Severus didn't know what it was that made him do as Lupin commanded. His eyes slid shut, and for a moment, the whole world was Lupin; Lupin standing so near to him that he could sense the aura of heat and magic that radiated from him, so near that Severus could feel Lupin's breath stir his hair -- or was that the wind? Then Severus' awareness expanded, and at once he could hear all the sounds of the night-time forest in perfect clarity. The clicking of insects, the chirping of tree frogs, the flutter of leaves in the breeze were all startlingly distinct, yet they blended perfectly with Lupin's steady tapping, the beating of Severus' own heart. And there _was_ music in it, of a sort, Severus realized. There was a cadence, an underlying hum that called to him in words that he couldn't quite make out…

Abruptly Severus felt cold, and the sense of clarity dissipated. Blinking his eyes open, he saw that Lupin had released his arm and stepped away. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Lupin pressed one finger to Severus' lips and shook his head. Then, smiling enigmatically, Lupin turned and swiftly vanished into the trees.

* * * * *

Lupin was his usual affable self the next day, almost leading Severus to wonder if he'd imagined everything the night before. Only the fresh dirt on Severus' shoes provided evidence to the contrary. Severus had witnessed an aspect of Lupin, a certain intensity of feeling, that he hadn't known the man possessed. Intrigued, he found himself studying Lupin at odd times, attempting to see some hint of it lurking beneath the surface.

This peculiar facet of Lupin's character eluded Severus, however, and the only lurking Lupin did was in Severus' mind. Images of Lupin standing before him, touching him, speaking to him in that low, fervent tone returned to him as he lay in bed at night and haunted his dreams. More than once he awoke in the dark, sweaty and panting and achingly hard, the remnants of a half-remembered fantasy rapidly evaporating as awareness returned.

Eight nights after the full moon, Severus awoke in such a fashion, sitting bolt upright with the sheets tangled about his legs. He pulled off his sweat-dampened nightshirt and cast it aside in frustration. The cool air of the room dried his skin and sent a shiver down his spine but did little to abate the heat low in his belly. Flopping onto his side with a huff, he buried his head in his pillow and attempted to will himself back to sleep. It quickly became apparent that it wasn't going to work this time, and there was only one way he would find rest again that night. Resolutely, he rolled onto his back and slid one hand beneath the covers.

For many years, self-pleasure had been nothing more than a very occasional and perfunctory affair for Severus. When he was a teenager, of course he'd taken every available opportunity to enjoy a brief wank -- what hormone-riddled adolescent male didn't? But as an adult, he'd learned to ignore such urges for the most part, since they inevitably led to bitter thoughts of all the things he could never have. This time, there was nothing perfunctory about the wave of sensation that shot through him as he wrapped his fingers firmly around himself, and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud.

Thoughts of Lupin and the forest flooded in unbidden as he began to tug at himself. Vague and shifting images of Lupin's lips moving as he spoke to Severus, Lupin's fingers tapping out a rhythm in time to Severus' strokes, the moonlight reflected in Lupin's eyes formed and fragmented in his mind. Impulsively, Severus slipped his free hand beneath the sheets to cup his swollen bollocks, and he could almost feel other hands, Lupin's warm, broad hands, touching, caressing him everywhere.

Severus' hips rocked up and beads of sweat rolled down his thighs. For once, he wanted to draw this out, to be awash with these visions and sensations for hours, but he couldn't slow down, couldn't stop. As his fist flew over his cock, the imaginary Lupin leaned in close and whispered _Come for me, Severus_ , and Severus could do nothing else. Teeth clenched against a shout, Severus came in violent spurts, arching up off the surface of the bed with the force of it.

As his climax subsided, Severus was left feeling both deeply sated and rather disturbed. Apparently the former outweighed the latter, since he was soundly asleep minutes later.

* * * * *

Lupin was already sitting at the kitchen table when Severus made his way downstairs the following morning. By the light of day, Severus was more than a little embarrassed and disconcerted by his inappropriate fantasies about Lupin. Only his years of practice at concealing his thoughts enabled him to maintain a nonchalant demeanor and not blush six shades of scarlet when the unwitting subject of said fantasies greeted him with a cheerful, "Good morning. Tea?"

Making an affirmative gesture in the general direction of the tea pot, Severus moved to mark the calendar. Lupin watched him do so, then said, "I've no idea why you've bothered to keep that up. We already know time doesn't mean anything here."

Severus' tangled hair fell over his face as he slumped into his usual chair across from Lupin. "As a matter of fact, we _don't_ know that," he replied irritably. "We only know that you were somehow inserted at a different point in our timeline."

Lupin rolled his eyes. Severus thought that perhaps he'd been a bad influence. "True," Lupin said, "but we've no idea when our timeline started or how quickly it progresses in relation to that of the world we came from. For all we know, it could be a hundred years after Voldemort there. Or a hundred years before. Or it could still be the day we died."

This was precisely the sort of reasoning Severus had pointedly been avoiding. Scowling, he argued, "It could, but that still doesn't mean that our timeline has no relevance _here_." Wherever "here" was.

"Fair enough," Lupin said mildly, clearly more prepared to back down on this matter than Severus. A distant look crossed his features as he said, "Personally, I think time is flowing in reverse here." He cocked his head to the side and seemed to study Severus. "You look younger lately, Severus. I feel younger."

Discomfited by the apparent scrutiny, Severus said, "Don't be absurd, Lupin. Of course you feel younger. Your body is no longer dealing with the stress of transforming itself into a slavering, hairy nightmare on legs every four weeks."

"Mmm," Lupin hummed noncommittally as he brought his tea cup to his lips. "You have to admit that it feels good to be free of the old duties and obligations and prejudices, though."

Severus snorted slightly in response to the sentiment but didn't disagree.

A few minutes passed in silence, then a smile crept across Lupin's face. It was the sort of smile that told Severus that Lupin was up to no good. "What?" Severus asked apprehensively.

"I've just decided upon a new goal for my afterlife," Lupin replied. When Severus lifted one eyebrow and eyed him distrustfully, Lupin laughed. "I'm going to make you forget to mark your calendar, Severus." As he looked at Lupin's wicked grin, a few lascivious thoughts as to how Lupin might be able to accomplish his goal sprang into Severus' head uninvited, and he was forced to hide the resulting blush behind his tea cup.

Remembering Lupin's remark, Severus looked in a mirror at the first opportunity. Even after careful examination, he couldn't imagine what Lupin had been on about. He didn't appear any younger to his own eyes. Over the following days, Severus studied Lupin through furtive glances and decided that Lupin _did_ seem younger somehow. Perhaps it was simply that Lupin was less careworn and weary, but the change seemed to run deeper than that. Whatever the case, Severus tried not to examine it overmuch lest it lead to thoughts not at all conducive to spell research.

The nights were another story entirely. When Severus was alone in the dark, he called upon all the desires that he carefully suppressed during the day. His memory of _that_ night, when Lupin had seemed so impassioned and bristling with an almost preternatural energy, had Severus half-hard before his hand even made contact with his swelling cock. He frantically stroked himself to climax while shifting images of Lupin and the forest and the moon played out in his mind every night for a week.

After that, Severus' awareness turned to the much more corporeal Lupin in the room across the hall, only a few meters away behind two thin walls. As Severus thrust into his hand, he wondered if Lupin pleasured himself in a similar fashion when he retired for the night. Perhaps Lupin was bringing himself off even as Severus raced towards his own release. He pictured Lupin lying naked, fingers gripping his shaft tightly, back arched in pleasure, and Severus matched his strokes to those of the fantasy Lupin. Each time, Severus came hard, burying his face in his pillow to silence his moans.

* * * * *

Severus moved quietly though the darkened forest, the round, shimmering moon occasionally visible though the breaks in the trees as he passed in and out of its light. Again he almost considered turning back before brushing the notion aside and continuing onward. He'd seen Lupin enter the woods in this direction and knew he must be close.

As it happened, Lupin found Severus first. "Severus? Is something wrong?"

Severus turned in time to see Lupin stepping out of the trees to his right. "No," he answered, his voice sounding loud and out of place to his own ears.

"Then what are you doing out here?" As Lupin moved closer, Severus could see the expression of concern etched on his features.

Avoiding the question for the moment, Severus sneered defensively, "Am I disturbing you? If I'm interrupting your plans to run naked through the wilderness and howl at the moon, I'll leave."

"No, you're not disturbing me at all," Lupin said, ignoring the barb. "I'm just surprised to find you here."

A silence stretched out as Lupin looked at him quizzically, and Severus knew he should offer up some explanation for his presence. This was made problematic by the fact that he didn't have one. When he'd seen Lupin slipping off beneath the full moon, Severus couldn't say what had made him follow. "I wasn't tired," he began lamely. "I wanted…"

Severus didn't wholly know what it was he wanted, but Lupin seemed to understand nonetheless. The corners of his mouth twitched up into an impish grin. "Well then," he said, "I suppose you'd better keep up." With that, he turned and darted back in the direction from which he had come.

"Lupin! Wait!" Severus called, knowing that it was futile. For a span of three heartbeats, he hesitated, uncertain, then he plunged into the trees after Lupin.

The sound of Lupin's mirthful laughter led Severus to him before Lupin ducked under a branch and disappeared again. Determined not to let Lupin get away, Severus ran after him, not knowing if he was trying to catch Lupin, or outrun him, or simply follow his lead. He knew he should be wary of the roots and branches that reached out to trip him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. As he flew through the woods, hot on Lupin's heels, Severus felt alive again, fifteen again, unfettered and unmarked and unbreakable.

At last Severus reached out and hooked his fingers in the back of Lupin's robes, and they stumbled to a halt, panting. Lupin laughed, a clear, bright sound, and moved towards Severus. "Do it again," Severus demanded suddenly, surprised by his own words. "Like last time. Do it again."

"All right," Lupin said, stepping closer still. "Close your eyes."

Severus squeezed his eyes shut and waited; waited for Lupin to take his wrist, for the sounds of the forest to coalesce, for the sense of clarity to return. One heartbeat passed, two, there was a rush of movement, and Severus found himself pressed up against a tree with Lupin's mouth covering his own. Caught wholly off guard, Severus couldn't prevent a high-pitched, needy sound from escaping his throat. Lupin swallowed it down, stole his breath, devoured his mouth. Severus reached up to push Lupin away, but instead twisted his fingers in Lupin's robes and pulled him closer.

Lupin overbalanced and fell against him. Severus felt a tell-tale hardness pressing into his hip, and his own cock instantly swelled in response. Lupin growled, a low, hungry, possessive sound, and brought one hand up to tangle in Severus' hair as he thrust his tongue into Severus' open mouth. Determined to give as good as he got, Severus clutched Lupin against him tightly and kissed, licked, bit, sucked, clawed, writhed in counterpoint to Lupin's movements.

Severus felt as though he were drowning in Lupin's heat, his breath, his magic. His head swam with it, his pulse raced and his blood boiled and his cock throbbed with it. The buzzing of insects and the rustling of leaves became a steady chant of _want want want need need need_ in Severus' ear, and he couldn't think, could only feel and keep moving, moving.

Lupin's erection ground against his through their clothing, and Severus knew he couldn't last under the assault. He tried desperately to slow Lupin down, to not spend himself in his robes like an overexcited adolescent, but Lupin thrust his hips hard and growled into Severus' mouth, and Severus was done for. He clung to Lupin and struggled to remain silent as his knees buckled and he came in a dizzying rush. The only thing that prevented him from being utterly mortified was that Lupin gasped and shuddered a moment later, and Severus thought he must be in an equally sticky state.

As their breathing slowed, Lupin rested against Severus, his forehead braced on Severus' shoulder. Severus stood stiffly, uncertain what he should do. It was Lupin who finally drew his wand and cast a series of cleaning charms. It was Lupin who took Severus' hand and pulled Severus down to sit at the base of the tree. And it was Lupin who leaned against Severus and sat with him in silence as the moon sank out of sight.

* * * * *

Under the circumstances, Severus knew he couldn't possibly avoid Lupin for long. Therefore, he decided that he would just have to deal with the repercussions of the previous night's activities as swiftly and coolly as possible. He likely wouldn't be able to escape the impending unpleasantness entirely, but he'd be damned if he'd listen to a long-winded diatribe that included phrases such as "caught up in the moment" and "terrible mistake" and "best if we pretend it never happened".

In spite of the late hour at which he had finally gone to bed, Severus made a point to arrive downstairs before Lupin. It would at least force Lupin to be the one to deal with the awkwardness of entering a room already occupied by the other. It wasn't much, but he'd take any strategic advantage he could get.

When Lupin entered the kitchen, however, he didn't appear awkward in the least. On the contrary, his face lit up upon seeing Severus at the table, and he approached directly. "Good morning," he said softly, just before he ran a thumb over Severus' cheek, leaned down, and _kissed_ him. Severus was so thoroughly taken aback that he could do nothing but stare at Lupin in obvious surprise.

Taking a seat across from Severus, Lupin chuckled ruefully. "Let me guess," he said. "You were expecting me to awkwardly stammer a load of excuses and apologies until you wanted to crawl into a hole and hex yourself deaf?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Ah. Well, I decided I'd rather skip all that and get on with the touching and kissing, if it's all the same to you. I like that part considerably better."

Incredulously, Severus said, "You've gone completely mad. Barking."

Lupin cocked an eyebrow. "Possibly, but you can't tell me you didn't enjoy what happened."

"I suppose it was an… adequate way to pass the time," Severus muttered into his tea cup as he fought against a blush.

"Only adequate?" Lupin asked, grinning a bit wickedly. "I think we can do better than that!"

This time Severus did flush, although it was in equal parts embarrassment and anger. "I'm so delighted you've finally found a way to glean some entertainment at my expense here. Too bad your lowlife friends aren't here to join in the hilarity," he hissed sarcastically.

"I'm not…" Lupin began, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look. You enjoyed it. I enjoyed it. I can't think of a single good reason why we shouldn't do it again. As you just pointed out, it's a rather good way to pass the time, yes? And time is something we have plenty of." Lifting a hand as though to prevent Severus from protesting, Lupin went on, "I'm not suggesting that we run straight upstairs and spend the reminder of our afterlives in bed. But I see no point whatsoever in dancing around each other and denying something that we obviously both want."

As improbable as the notion was, Lupin seemed sincere. "I suppose," Severus said slowly, "if the situation were to arise again, there would be no harm in indulging." From the way Lupin smiled at him, Severus rather suspected the situation would arise again in the very near future.

**IV**

Following what must have been the strangest "morning after" conversation in the history of wizardkind, Severus had fully expected Lupin to pounce on him at the first available opportunity. He nervously waited for Lupin to throw him up against the potions supply cupboard in search of a repeat performance or some such thing, but no assault came. After four days, Severus' pulse finally stopped racing at Lupin's every move, and Severus began to think that the wretch had changed his mind. That was when Lupin waylaid him in the hallway at the top of the stairs. This time they at least managed to get their cocks out before turning their clothes into a damp, sticky mess.

Frottage in the forest and hand jobs in the hall gradually led to blow jobs in the basement and then to even more intimate things. Although he would never confess as much, Severus was immensely thankful that Lupin seemed to want to allow things to develop slowly. It meant that Severus never had to openly admit to his lack of experience in these matters, and he thought he did a passable job of feigning at least a small measure of expertise. Lupin never complained, at any rate.

The first time he penetrated Lupin, Severus nearly lost control instantly. He managed to hold out at least a minute or two only by sheer force of will. He'd still have been mortified, but Lupin seemed to be too busy writhing and groaning and coming all over his stomach to notice. Severus breathed one small sigh of relief, then pretended that he'd planned it all along. He was more prepared for the overwhelming sensation on the next occasion.

Of course, they couldn't stay in bed -- or on the sofa, or against a tree, or bent over a table -- all the time. As their sensual explorations progressed, Severus and Lupin continued to read, research, converse, and walk in the woods as they had previously. Lupin also persisted in working on the connecting house when he had a free hour here or there. This irked Severus, although he couldn't imagine why it should. Certainly he had come to enjoy Lupin's company, but it wasn't as though Lupin could truly _go_ anywhere, and he'd only be in the next house over. It had always been intended that Lupin would take up residence elsewhere as soon as he could make one of the other homes habitable. There was no reason that it should feel like a grievous insult every time Lupin disappeared next door.

On the four-hundred sixty-third evening, Severus tried to focus on the book in his hands while Lupin worked in the adjoining house. Tried and failed rather abysmally. Lupin had been at it longer than usual, and Severus' disposition was growing more caustic by the minute. Severus was just beginning to consider going to retrieve the miscreant when Lupin finally returned looking inordinately pleased with himself. Severus' mood darkened further.

"I should probably knock on wood before I say this," Lupin announced, "but I believe I'm essentially done. I need to look over all of my work to be certain everything is sound, but then I can start transfiguring some furnishings. Any special requests?" he asked, shooting Severus a suggestive look.

Severus met Lupin's leer with a scowl. "No doubt you can scarcely contain your enthusiasm at the prospect of getting away from me," he drawled, "but do try not to interrupt my reading with insipid talk of interior decorating. As if my input matters. You'll do the entire place in red and gold regardless of what I say, just to be contrary."

"If I'm as contrary as all that, then you've just ensured that I'll decorate the entire thing in green and silver now," Lupin joked. His demeanor turned serious as he sat on the sofa beside Severus. "I don't want to 'get away from you' at all, you know. I'd have thought you'd be rather anxious to get me out of your hair by now, though."

Oddly enough, Severus had no particular desire to get Lupin out of his hair, or his bed, or his house, or anything else for that matter, but his only response was a noncommittal snort.

"In any case, we could use a bit more space around here," Lupin went on. "This house really is small," he remarked, and glanced around the two downstairs rooms contemplatively. "It's all rather incongruous, isn't it? It seems as though, if the powers in charge were going to toss us in our own personal afterlife that is, as you put it, 'the size of a shrivelfig', they might have provided nicer accommodations. Old, run-down Muggle row houses? It doesn't make much sense."

Severus was suddenly acutely conscious of the impoverished condition of his house and its many signs of neglect. Pushing his discomfiture aside, he said matter-of-factly, "This was my childhood home."

Lupin smiled at Severus a bit uncertainly. "You're having me on."

"Am I?" Severus arched an eyebrow.

"You're not having me on," Lupin said, his smile turning into a wince. "Well. Pardon me while I remove my foot from my mouth."

"Why bother?" Severus asked. "One would think you'd be used to talking around it by now. Or with another orifice entirely," he added, although his earlier ire had dissipated and there was no real bite to his words.

Lupin rolled his eyes, then couldn't seem to resist another glance around the room. "Really? This is where you grew up?"

"Why are you so surprised by this, Lupin? Surely you didn't think I spent my summer hols dining on caviar served to me by a troop of house elves in a villa in Paris."

A distant expression fell over Lupin's face, and Severus knew that he was thinking back to their school days and remembering Severus as a teenager with his ill-fitting clothing, second hand books, and poorly-cut hair, and seeing him through an adult's eyes. "I should have known, shouldn't I?" Lupin said contritely. "I suppose it never occurred to any of us to wonder at that age. Hell, the Sorting Hat screamed 'Slytherin' practically before it was even on your head. I think we all just assumed you were from a typical magical background."

"I believe there are a number of exceptionally trite yet rather apt sayings about assumptions," Severus remarked, aware that the conversation had moved well into the realm of dangerous territory.

"Indeed," Lupin agreed wryly before comprehension seemed to dawn again. "Wait, that's how you knew Lily when we were kids, isn't it? You didn't just meet on the train. She was Muggleborn; she must have lived somewhere nearby." Lupin glanced around, as though he expected Lily's home to materialize.

At the unexpected mention of Lily, the usual pang of regret blossomed within Severus, but it was accompanied by the startling realization that he hadn't thought about her in days, perhaps weeks. He felt strangely guilty about that. "Yes. We were… friends. Before Hogwarts."

"I take it you're a half-blood, then. So which of your parents..?"

"My father," Snape replied. Lupin looked at him expectantly, so he added, "We weren't close."

"But you lived together?" Lupin asked.

"Yes. He did _that_ ," Severus offered suddenly, nodding toward the broken railing on the stair, "the first time my magic manifested itself in front of him. I was five. I think it was the moment that he truly realized what it meant to have a wizard for a son."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Lupin said, and Severus wasn't sure whether he was referring to Severus' family life or something more.

"I'm not," Severus shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"Hmm, I suppose it was," Lupin agreed, fixing Severus with a slightly soppy smile. "So, which bedroom was yours while you were growing up? The one I've been sleeping in?"

"Yes. Why?" Severus asked suspiciously.

His smile turning wicked, Lupin stood up and offered his hand to Severus. "Because I want to suck you off in your old room."

Severus couldn't argue with a statement like that. He took Lupin's hand and followed him upstairs.

* * * * *

"Get on with it already!" Severus demanded.

It was the five-hundred sixth day on Severus' calendar; the one-hundred ninetieth since Lupin had arrived, and the eighty-eighth since the night in the forest when their relationship had first taken a more intimate turn. Severus lay on his back, his bare legs tangled with Lupin's as Lupin sucked at the hollow of his throat. His rigid cock was trapped tightly between their stomachs, and Lupin was refusing to _move_ , damn him.

"No. I want to take my time in enjoying you for once," Lupin said, then swiped his tongue across Severus' collar bone for emphasis.

Severus wriggled beneath the weight of Lupin's body, seeking friction, and muttered, "…stubborn, irksome, exasperating pain in the…"

At once, Lupin's weight was gone. Severus opened his eyes to see Lupin crouched above him on all fours and gazing at him intently. "Turn over, Severus," Lupin whispered, and something about the heat in Lupin's eyes made him do as instructed.

As Severus turned over onto his stomach, Lupin breathed, "Merlin, you're beautiful like that."

Severus snorted derisively. "You already have me in bed. False compliments are hardly necessary at this juncture."

"I mean it. You've no idea what you look like right now, do you? Laid out on my bed, all long lines and smooth skin…" Lupin ran his hands slowly down Severus' back and over the curve of his arse as he spoke. "You've so pale, you practically _glow_ in the moonlight." There was a reverence, a hunger in Lupin's tone that sent a shiver down Severus' spine and made him believe, just for right now, that Lupin was sincere.

The bed shifted as Lupin moved. Lupin's shaggy hair tickled Severus' shoulder, then Severus felt Lupin's hot mouth on his skin, kissing an ambling path over his back and licking a slow trail down his spine. Surprised at the sensuality of it, Severus groaned into the pillow and thrust reflexively against the duvet.

"Like that, do you?" Lupin said. "I can do better."

Lupin shifted again, and then Severus was being pulled up onto his knees and elbows. "Lupin, what are you d--" Severus began, but his protest broke off with a gasp as Lupin ran his tongue up the crease of his arse. An instant later, Lupin blew a puff of cool air in the wake of his tongue, and Severus nearly collapsed into a trembling heap.

Apparently taking Severus' response as an invitation to continue, Lupin resumed the assault with his tongue, making shorter and shorter passes until he was focusing his attention wholly on Severus' puckered opening. Lupin laved him, speared him, stroked fingertips down his thighs, and Severus panted into the pillow and thought that nothing so terribly undignified should feel so incredibly _good_.

Balancing himself on one arm, Severus slid the other down to reach for his neglected cock. Before he could make contact, his hand was batted away. "Not yet," Lupin admonished.

"Lupin…" Severus groaned.

"Turn over, then. Face me," Lupin said, and Severus did so immediately.

When Severus was on his back once more, Lupin bent down to run his tongue up Severus' cock from root to tip, ending with a flick across the leaking head. He didn't linger there long, however, and Severus gave the faintest of disgruntled whimpers as Lupin moved to nip at his navel instead. Lupin ignored the complaint and slowly kissed-licked-bit-sucked his way up Severus' torso. Even tugging at Lupin's hair wouldn't hurry him, and Severus was vibrating with need and rocking his hips blindly by the time they were face to face again. Lupin's erection nudged at Severus' entrance, and Lupin leaned in to murmur near his ear, "Severus… Let me make you feel good…"

Severus fought down a surge of panic. "That's precisely what you've been refusing to do for some minutes now," he grumbled, but his voice was weak, unsteady. They'd never done this, and while he didn't wish to deny Lupin, he was reluctant to place himself in such a potentially vulnerable and revealing position.

"Please," Lupin said, his voice hoarse. "Want you."

That one word, spoken in such a fervent tone -- _want_ ; Lupin _wanted_ him -- made Severus' decision for him in an instant. "Yes," he answered. "Yes."

At his acceptance, Lupin swiftly reached for the jar of lubricant on the night stand, twisted the top off, and dipped his hand inside. He kissed Severus deeply as he slicked himself then thrust two fingers into Severus, preparing him quickly. When he seemed to decide that Severus was ready, Lupin buried his face in Severus' neck, aligned himself, and _pushed_. He moved forward, pulled back a bit, moved forward again, and then he was sliding into Severus, in and in and in.

Once sheathed, Lupin froze in place. "All right?" he asked breathlessly.

Not quite trusting his voice, Severus nodded and dug his fingers into Lupin's back, encouraging him to move. Lupin moved, slowly, cautiously, shifting his position. Out of the corner of his vision, Severus could see Lupin's face fixed in concentration, sweat beading on his brow. It burned, it felt strange, and then Lupin -- _ohdeargodfuck!_ \-- Lupin found just the right angle, and Severus' breath left him in a gasp.

"There?" Lupin asked.

"Don't you _dare_ stop doing that!" was Severus' reply.

Lupin gave a throaty chuckle that ended in a groan as Severus clenched around him.

That seemed to mark the end of Lupin's restraint. Suddenly Lupin was moving, really moving, sliding over Severus, driving into him in a steady rhythm, hitting _that_ spot with every up beat. Lupin chanted nonsense words into Severus' ear, an endless refrain of "tight" and "hot" and "god" and "perfect," as Severus grasped Lupin by the arse and pulled him down over and over again. Lupin was filling Severus, filling him everywhere until there was no empty space left anywhere within him, and still it wasn't enough. Severus twisted his fingers in Lupin's hair, in the duvet as he arched and writhed. "More," he managed to gasp, and at last Lupin shoved one hand down between them to grip Severus' shaft.

Lupin began to pull roughly in time with his thrusts, and he groaned Severus' name. It was an urgent sound, pleading and fierce, and it was Severus' final undoing. His climax welled up within him and burst forth, wrenched from him by Lupin's hand, Lupin's cock, Lupin's body, Lupin's voice. He spilled himself violently over both their stomachs, a strangled cry catching in his throat as his vision went white. Lupin's motions became fast and erratic then, and he _howled_ his own release moments after Severus, burying himself so deep that Severus thought surely he'd never be able to banish Lupin entirely.

When it was over, Lupin remained atop Severus for a time, resting his head on Severus' chest as they caught their breath. Eventually he rolled to the side, threw one arm haphazardly across Severus, and sighed contentedly. Several minutes passed, and Lupin was so silent and still that Severus thought he must have fallen asleep. Seeing this as his opportunity to escape with what little remained of his frayed dignity, Severus attempted to recall where his wand had ended up and began slipping smoothly out of the bed. As soon as he stirred, Lupin's arm tightened around him, and Lupin said, "Stay."

Turning his head, Severus found Lupin wide awake and watching him. Severus searched Lupin's gaze and found no contempt there, nor smug triumph. Tentatively, he reached out to brush a lock of damp hair off Lupin's forehead and decided that it couldn't hurt to stay, just for tonight.

* * * * *

On the five-hundred seventh day, Severus forgot to mark the calendar.

**V**

It should have been enough. Here in their private world, Severus had found a sort of comfort and catharsis with Lupin that he'd never experienced in life. At long last, he was free from servitude and intrigue and war, no longer bound by the indiscretions of his youth. In many ways, it was more than he'd dared hope for himself after he'd learned of the Dark Lord's return. It should have been enough. But it wasn't.

As the weeks wore on, the seclusion began to burden Severus again, despite Lupin's company. He once more felt the forest closing in on him, and it seemed to grow smaller and more hostile before his eyes. Some days Severus was able to armor himself in Lupin's smile, Lupin's warmth, and everything was all right. Other days a dark mood seized him, and they'd learned the hard way that it was best for Lupin to simply leave Severus to himself until it passed. If Severus chewed his lips raw or bit his nails to the quick during his bad spells, at least Lupin was always ready to heal his hurts afterward.

The calendar had disappeared some time ago, and Severus missed having the regular act of marking off the orderly boxes to anchor him. He considered making a new calendar, then grew frantic when he discovered that he couldn't remember how many days had passed no matter how hard he tried. Had it been nine full moons since Lupin arrived or ten? Or more? He stayed up an entire night trying to recall before giving it up as a lost cause.

Severus' thoughts kept returning to Lupin's offhand remark about it being _Severus'_ afterlife. Granted, he had been there first, and the street was a facsimile of the one on which he'd grown up. Yet, if it was truly his afterlife, then what was Lupin doing in it? Severus wondered if he'd somehow unknowingly damned them both. If they were damned, though, if this was some kind of hell, why did Lupin, by far the more sociable of the two of them, not seem especially bothered by the solitude? These questions plagued Severus' mind, but he could find no answers to them.

Severus had no idea what day it was when he sat on the ground in the woods, his back against a tree and his knees tucked up under his chin. He didn't know the phase of the moon either, but it was a very dark night, so it had to be close to the new moon. That was all right, since he didn't need to be able to see.

"Severus?"

He rather wished he couldn't hear either. The woods were taunting him, laying claim to him, reminding him with every rustle and hum that he could never leave. In their singsong voice, the nocturnal creatures told him _no, no, can't escape, you're ours forever, ours ours ours ours ours…_ Severus had tried pressing his hands to his ears, but he couldn't block out the sound entirely.

"Severus?"

A dark shape moved in front of him and stood still. With some effort, Severus lifted his head, but his vision was unfocused, blurred. He could only make out a vague form, black on a grey background. He allowed his chin to fall back to his knees.

"Severus. What are you doing out here? I've been looking for you for hours."

It dawned on Severus then that the voice addressing him was familiar, and a strange desire to not disappoint the speaker kindled within him. Raising his head once, he struggled to remember. Tentatively, he said, "Lupin..?"

"Right, then," Lupin said, and the Lupin-shaped figure moved toward Severus. "Let's get back to the house. Here, put your arm around me…" Reaching Severus' side, Lupin bent down to slid one arm around Severus, and abruptly Severus understood what Lupin meant to do.

" _NO!_ " Severus shrieked. He lashed out, limbs flailing, and Lupin recoiled in obvious shock. Breathing heavily, Severus wrapped his arms around his body as though he could literally keep himself from coming apart at the seams. "No," he repeated. "I can't leave."

"Neither of us can leave," Lupin said, his tone bewildered.

Some rational corner of Severus' mind hated that he was responsible for causing Lupin to sound so lost. Attempting to rein in his agitation, Severus explained, "I can't leave _here_. Right here. This spot. I can't."

Cautiously, Lupin approached him again. "Why not, Severus?"

Desperate to make Lupin understand, to have his words make sense, Severus reached out a shaking hand and grabbed the hem of Lupin's robes. "This is the farthest I can get from the house," he said. "This is the farthest I can go. I've calculated it out, you see…"

"Severus…" Lupin said, sinking to his knees beside him.

"Listen!" Severus hissed, finally focusing on Lupin and meeting his gaze. "If I take a step in either direction, I'll be moving back toward the house again. Just one step."

"Oh, god," Lupin said, his expression pained.

Severus didn't _want_ Lupin's pity, didn't want Lupin _looking_ at him like that, but now that he'd started explaining he couldn't seem to stop. "The woods feel like they're shrinking, Lupin. This is the farthest I can go, and the woods feel like they're shrinking. But I _belong_ to the forest. I think I'm losing me."

"Oh, god, Severus," Lupin groaned. "I'm so sorry."

 _…Sorry..?_ The buzzing in Severus' ears suddenly stopped. "What?" he asked quietly.

"Severus…"

"Why are you sorry?"

Lupin opened his mouth as if to answer, but no words were forthcoming. Severus grabbed the front of Lupin's robes with both fists and hauled himself to his knees, then pulled Lupin forward until their faces were inches apart. "Why are you sorry, Lupin?"

When Lupin spoke, his voice wavered. "I think… I think I'm the reason we're stuck here."

"Why? Tell me!" Severus demanded, shaking Lupin hard.

Lupin's eyes were wild and terrified as he answered, "I think… I killed myself."

Severus shook his head, unable to make sense of Lupin's words. "What? No, you died in the battle. You told me you died in the battle!"

"I did! I did, but…"

" _But what?!_ " Severus gave Lupin another shake.

"But…" A distant look came over Lupin, and it was clear he was no longer seeing Severus or the forest at all. In an equally faraway tone, he said, "The attack came at midnight. I led a group onto the grounds. There were hexes flying everywhere, bolts of every colored light imaginable soaring through the dark. Like wizarding fireworks, I remember thinking. It would have been beautiful if people hadn't been dying all around."

Lupin's voice gained strength as he continued, "You always hear that time slows down in battle, and I think it must be true. Everything was moving so slowly. And I… I saw the curse coming. Dolohov was off balance; the spell was poorly aimed. I had plenty of time to dodge it. I saw the curse coming… a bolt of green… such bright green… and I made a decision. I stepped into it."

When Lupin finished speaking, Severus heard a strange, high-pitched groan, and realized it was coming from himself. It seemed to bring Lupin back to the present, and when his eyes locked with Severus' once more, Lupin whispered, "I'm sorry."

A small, hysterical giggle welled up from Severus' chest at the absurd notion that someone should be apologizing for effectively committing suicide by Death Eater. The giggle broke off in a strangled sound. Lupin pulled Severus into his arms -- or perhaps it was the other way around -- and Severus couldn't say how long they remained there, kneeling on the ground, clinging to each other in silence, for all the words had been used up.

* * * * *

Lupin looked up and offered a wan smile as Severus re-entered the sitting room. Wordlessly, Severus handed him a cup of tea. Wrapping his fingers around the steaming cup, Lupin murmured, "Thank you."

Severus hummed a vague response and settled onto the sofa beside Lupin, careful not to spill his own tea. Confusion over the somewhat hazy events of the previous night and anger that Lupin had been keeping things from him for months churned within him, but he forced himself to maintain a stoic mien. While he was anxious to hear more of Lupin's story, he thought it best to allow Lupin to tell it in his own time. His patience could only extend so far without tea, however.

"So where was I?" Lupin asked.

"You were telling me why you did it," Severus supplied.

"Ah." Lupin considered the cup in his hands for several moments before he spoke again. "You were right, you know. The things you said about me shortly after I arrived here, about my inability to stand up to friends and such… You were right. I always allowed others' desires to dictate my actions. You'll be happy to know that it eventually came back to bite me in the arse," he said wryly.

"I woke up one day and found myself living a life I never wanted and I didn't even know how I'd managed to get myself _into_ the mess," Lupin went on. "I'd spent so long just trying to be liked that, by the time I'd had enough, I didn't know how to stop. I just kept digging myself in deeper. When I saw a way out…"

"You took it," Severus finished for Lupin.

"Yes."

Lupin lapsed into silence, so Severus prompted, "And then you were here."

"Yes. That was the truth. One minute I was fighting at Hogwarts, and the next I was here. If I was ever any place in between, I don't remember it."

"Yes, well. You seem to have forgotten a number of significant things," Severus muttered, shooting Lupin a pointed glare.

"Convenient, no?" Lupin said, meeting Severus' look with a rueful smile. "I suspect that's precisely why I ended up here, though."

"Oh? Why?" This was the part that truly puzzled Severus. It was clear that there was more than mere chance at work, but Severus still couldn't fathom why he and Lupin had come to be in this place together. He had long thought that his imprisonment in the displaced Spinner's End was the punishment for the crimes of his youth. Yet if this was the case, he could conceive of no explanation as to why Lupin, of all people, would arrive to ease the monotony. If Lupin had some theory, Severus was more than willing to consider it.

"Quite obviously, I wasn't prepared to accept what I'd done," Lupin shrugged. "It was _safe_ being stuck here where I didn't have to face anyone who--"

Although Lupin broke off abruptly, Severus still heard the unspoken conclusion. _Anyone who I cared about. Anyone who mattered._ Only slightly more charitably, he supplied, "Anyone whose good opinion you'd bent over backward to maintain in life?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, exactly, and Merlin knows there was little I could have done to worsen _your_ opinion of me at the time." Severus couldn't deny that, so he remained silent. A miserable look stole over Lupin's features as he continued, barely above a whisper, "But what would James and Sirius do if they knew?"

Old resentments flared within Severus. Battling them down for the time being, he rolling his eyes and said, "I imagine they'd slap you over the back of the head, call you a prat, and then ask what took you so long to show up, grinning like imbeciles all the while."

"You think so?" Lupin asked, offering an uneven smile over the top of his tea cup.

"Yes," Severus replied, the depth of his disgust at the notion fully evident in his tone.

Lupin's smile turned into an all-out grin, and he chuckled. "You might be right about that after all."

Severus couldn't understand why he felt both elated and resentful at seeing that grin. Impatient to turn the topic away from the self-professed 'Marauders' and back to the matter at hand, he asked incredulously, "So you think you _chose_ to be here?"

"Not in such a direct fashion, no," Lupin shrugged. "But perhaps I was somehow supplied with what I wanted at the time. Or what I needed."

"And how do you suppose I figure into this theory of yours, Lupin?" Severus asked, skeptical. "I'm quite sure I never _wanted_ to be dumped into a replica of my dismal Muggle house, and alone for months on end to boot."

"Oh?" Lupin lifted a brow. "You're sure you never wished for solitude or a release from responsibility?"

The aggravating man had a point. Severus huffed and looked at his tea. Lupin had the gall to grin at him again.

"And perhaps," Lupin suggested, "you've had some matters to sort as well."

"Your conjecture is baseless, presumptuous, and unconvincing," Severus complained, but he had none better to offer.

Lupin didn't protest, and the conversation turned to less precarious topics shortly thereafter. By unspoken agreement, the remainder of the day was spent in familiar and comfortable pursuits, and Severus was thankful for the distraction that Lupin's company provided. Nevertheless, his mind drifted back to dwell on Lupin's confessions and speculations with every available opportunity. Severus was still pondering the problem the next afternoon when Lupin suddenly burst into the basement, breathless and disheveled, and gasped, "Severus! The forest! It's opened up. There's something beyond the forest."

**VI**

Severus nearly dropped the jar of lacewing flies he was holding when Lupin made his rather startling announcement. "What the devil are you on about?" he snapped, not because he didn't understand what Lupin meant but because he simply couldn't believe that he'd heard it correctly.

Once Lupin caught his breath, he managed to explain in greater detail. "I was walking though the woods, not doing anything in particular," he said. "When I reached what should have been the midway point where the forest turns back on itself, there was new forest. Forest we've never seen before. I stood there for several minutes, and I began to hear sounds. Distant sounds, voices maybe. There's definitely… more. I didn't dare step over into it; I just ran right back here to tell you."

The pounding of Severus' heart in his ears nearly drowned out Lupin's account. "Are you _sure_ you saw what you think you saw?" he asked.

"Come see for yourself," was Lupin's only response.

Although he forced himself not to tear through the woods at a dead run, Severus still made it to the halfway point in record time, with Lupin right behind him. It was, indeed, as Lupin had described. Meandering off into the distance were trees, rocks, paths, a blackberry bush that they'd never seen before. They stood in silence for some time and never heard the sounds that Lupin had reported, but it didn't matter. The sight of new landscape was enough.

Of course they would leave. There was never any question about it, no need for discussion. They would leave, and they would do it soon, since neither Severus nor Lupin was willing to take any chance that the woods might close again if they lingered too long. They agreed to return to the house a final time to gather any belongings they might wish to take with them, then venture into unknown territory in the morning.

Severus spent the remainder of the day packing and reducing his research notes, his test potions, a few reference books. In an odd way, he felt as though he were putting away the last several months of his existence. When he came to the journals filled with notes and observations written alternately in Lupin's script and his own, Severus' hands began to shake. After nearly breaking an entire rack of vials, he cleared his mind and forced himself to focus solely on the repetitive mechanics of the task at hand.

That night, when they went to bed early, Lupin kissed a trail up Severus' spine before entering him slowly from behind. He laced his fingers with Severus' and buried his face in Severus' hair as he moved above him. For once, Severus didn't demand that Lupin "go faster" or "get on with it" or "quit teasing" but was content to let the sensations build and simmer within him. When Lupin came with a long, shuddering moan, and Severus followed him over the edge, it felt amazing, exquisite, urgent, bittersweet. It felt like the last time. It felt like goodbye.

In the morning, when he walked away from the house for the final time Severus felt something almost like regret. He told himself that it was absurd to be sentimental about the wretched place, even if his experiences there hadn't turned out to be wholly bad. He refused to look back over his shoulder as he stepped past the tree line.

As they made their way through the forest, Severus and Lupin didn't speak. Intent upon their goal, Lupin set a fast pace, and Severus' feelings of regret rapidly turned to bitter resentment. Now that he'd used Severus to deal with the worst of his trepidation, it seemed that Lupin could scarcely wait to rejoin his imbecilic friends. He wouldn't even spare a thought to leaving Severus behind. Severus wondered if Lupin even remembered he was walking behind him now or if Lupin had already forgotten him. By the time they came to a halt at the edge of the new terrain, Severus was seething.

Turning to Lupin, Severus twisted his lip up into an old, familiar sneer. "Well. Goodbye, then, Lupin. It's been… diverting," he said.

"Somehow that's not the word I'd use for it," Lupin said, frowning. "And what do you mean 'goodbye'?"

"Oh, don't pretend to be so obtuse," Severus sniffed. "The moment we're through these woods and we find whatever passes for civilization in the afterlife, you'll go your way and I'll go mine."

Lupin had the nerve to look hurt. "Is that really what you want?" he asked.

No, it wasn't what Severus wanted at all, but when had his desires ever mattered? Once they found other people, once Lupin found his _friends_ , Lupin would have no more need for Severus' company. They would go their separate ways, and the best Severus could do was make sure that it happened on his own terms. "It's simply a statement of fact," he said coldly. "We'll have other things to amuse us soon enough, and you'll no longer require -- what was it? -- a means of passing the time."

For several moments, Lupin stared at Severus agape. Under other circumstances, his expression of open astonishment might have been comical. At last he seemed to master himself and, snapping his mouth shut, he moved toward Severus. Quietly, he asked, "Is that what you honestly believe? That it was just a way to pass the time? All these months?"

"Are you suggesting that it wasn't?" Severus replied, incredulous.

Lupin lifted one hand to cradle Severus' neck, locking their gazes and not allowing Severus to look away. "It wasn't," he said firmly. "It never was."

The ground felt unsteady beneath Severus, and he could scarcely find the breath to whisper, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm going _with_ you to whatever it is that comes next. And I'm not leaving here without you."

"What will Potter and Black think when you show up in the afterlife with me?" Severus asked, echoing Lupin's own fears from just two days earlier.

"They'll think I've lost my mind or that you've cursed me, and I don't bloody _care_. I told you, I'm fed up with allowing other people to tell me what I should do. I'm done with it. I can decide for myself what I want, and I. Want. _This._ "

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but found that he had no adequate words. It didn't seem to matter. Leaning forward, Lupin caught Severus up in a searing kiss that stole his breath and burned away his hesitation, his fear, his doubt. It went on and on until all that remained was the truth of Lupin's declaration.

When they broke apart an age later, Lupin asked, "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Severus replied, and he realized that it was true.

A cheerful air came over Lupin, and he said, "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your afterlife."

Severus smirked in response but privately thought that Lupin was wrong. The first day of the rest of his afterlife had been the day that Lupin had arrived. Yet, since Severus had lost track of the days quite some time back, he supposed it couldn't hurt to start counting over again.

As they turned to face the forest once more, Lupin slipped his hand into Severus'. Then, moving in unison, they took their first step into unexplored territory.


End file.
